


LOVE Me Until the End

by Eliyah_de_Dark312



Category: Undertale
Genre: Blind Frisk, Butchertale, Chara and Frisk are Siblings, F/F, F/M, Inspired, Kidnapping, Lima Syndrome, Monsters in Disguise, Semisolidmind, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyah_de_Dark312/pseuds/Eliyah_de_Dark312
Summary: It's hard to move on from the past when you refuse to let go.For ten years, Papyrus and Sans have had only one goal. Get back to Noueville and find the Dreemur girls. They lost them once. Neither intends to lose their loves again. If only someone had warned Chara and Frisk that the boys they once knew were long gone.





	1. Reconnection

Her hair shone red now. In all his memories, her hair had been glistening brown curls that splayed out around her face. She once looked feral in her mud-stained dress and filthy hair. Her face would alight with a beautiful smile, even when she was missing her front teeth. He supposed time had to change her in some ways. She wore the kind of dresses now that she had spurned when they played. It fit her well, holding her in just the right places while letting his mind wonder about the matured body it hid. What was once curly and frizzy now sat straight and obedient in a tight bun. Her long thin fingers tapped a desk and her tilted head took the look of a berating school teacher. She wanted to be one, he remembered. She would sit him at a stump and lecture him about the world as best as a six-year-old knew. The little school building seemed full of spirit even if only a few children sat in the hall. It was her power. She took any simple place and made it so much more.

One of the children, a little boy with dirt stains in his clothes and freckles on his face, spotted him through the window. His hand shot into the air, fingers flailing and body wriggling. She floated across the floor and, upon reaching the boy, leaned in to listen. He spoke quick and pointed at the stranger in the window. She stole no glance, did not turn, instead she ruffled the blonde hair of the boy and smiled. That pure look on her face tugged at his heart. _Oh, little friend_ , his heart cried, _I've missed you._

~.~

School ended in the early afternoon. The little children filtered out of the building, each calling back "Bye Ms. Dreemur!"

She smiled and waved to her children. Though she only got to see them for a few hours a day, she loved each one. No time to waste, she thought, setting her class back in order. The board needed to be clean, the desks purged of ink as well as she could, and papers collected. Her little ones were certainly not cleanly.

The door to the school creaked open. "Penelope, did you forget your book again?" She asked, a smile blooming across her face. There was a bear, a moment, where nothing but silence hung in the air. "It's rude not to answer," she prompted. When only more silence answered her, she huffed. She turned around, back straight and stiff, lips set in a frown.

The man standing in the doorway was thin, almost inhumanly so. He slouched to avoid hitting his head on the frame. White hairs glistened off his head, but his face showed no sign of the silvered age. He was young, and she would dare to call him handsome enough. Some fine white shirt and gray trousers were his clothes, though a well-made wool coat covered his shoulders and leather shoes on his feet. He wrung a flimsy hat in his hands, his eyes flicking between her and everything else in the room. "Pardon my intrusion, ma'am, " the man said in a hoarse voice. He proceeded to mumble for a moment, low enough that she could not tell what he said but she could tell he was speaking. "Y-you are Chara Dreemur, aren't you ma'am?" He took a single step forward, allowing him to stand straight. He was much taller than her, towering over her quite like a monster.

Yet in him, she saw something familiar. She remembered two boys, one tall and lanky, the other short and fat, standing in her mother's garden. Boys with black sclerae and red irises. This man kept his face more in the shadows, making it hard to see his eyes. "Papyrus?" She asked, taking a step closer to the man. He shrunk back, ducking his head. A bright smile crossed Chara's face as she caught sight of those black and red eyes. She wrapped her arms around his tense body. There was some muscle there, she could feel it. He only looked bone thin. Just like when they were kids. She could remember sitting beside him in Mama's favorite buttercup field. He brought her books, she read with him, and they would argue about the author's intent. Such a strange but simple childhood. Sans and Frisk would run around the garden while she taught Papyrus how to draw. He did okay before, it was obvious that his father wanted his sons to sketch, but he always took the analytical side. Drawing exact images because "what's the point of exaggerating?"

Papyrus froze at her touch and stiffly shifted his arms into a facsimile of a hug. His soul thumped against his ribs. "It's...it's nice to see you too, Chara," he managed to say. She pressed her face into his wool coat. It was scratchy, but Papyrus never seemed to mind. Neither did Chara. She only let him go when she heard boots crushing gravel.

She sighed. It must be three o'clock, she thought as she looked around her childhood friend.

Jerry Ruens (he insisted his name was pronounced runs not ruins, but no one cared) had the reputation of being the vilest person in Noueville. He stank of sweat no matter the time of day, and his hands were always moist to the touch. Which he loved. He would run his hand over merchandise and produce, leaving everything with the faint smell of refuse. It could not be helped. His profession of sifting through trash allowed him to find "treasures" that were easy sells to unwitting folk outside their quaint town. It had made him wealthy Noueville, though not popular. To Chara's dismay, he set his beady eyes on her after her elder brother Kris left for the war front.

Now, like every day, he came up the path strutting like a peacock wearing his suit coat and shiny shoes. The smell alone could have warned her. He smiled at her, revealing tobacco stained and cracked teeth. "Goooood afternoon, Miss Chara!" He waved a hand. The smell intensified. Papyrus made no attempt to use his disdain, covering his nose and hacking into the collar of his coat. "I see the children are gone. I've always said you had a gift with them. It's a real shame," he eyed her dress, more specifically where her bodice met her skirt, "you have none of your own yet." Chara held in a shudder. Jerry licked his lip before looking at Papyrus and pausing. He looked the thin man up and down before saying, "Who's the beanpole?"

Something flashed in Papyrus's eyes. It happened so quickly that Chara thought she might have imagined it. after all, there was nothing that could have caused his eyes to turn orange. He did not offer his hand, his smile, or his friendly voice. Only his name and a sneer. "Dr. Papyrus Snowdin. And you are?"

"Jerry Ruens, the pleasure is yours," the ingrate took no notice of his rival's cool demeanor, instead choosing to jabber on, "Doctor, huh? Wasted your life if you ask me. Why I must be the richest man in town and I ain't no doctor. No sir, just a genius, " he tapped his head while winking at Chara who let a small amount of cringe out. "No sir no sir, never had an education and never gonna need one. Just gotta find people dumber than me."

"A true struggle, I'm sure," Papyrus interjected, quiet enough that Jerry did not hear him but Chara certainly did. She snickered, which Jerry acknowledged as his own greatness. The smelly creature took a breath to continue speaking, and Papyrus jumped at the chance. "Ms. Dreemur, I've been meaning to ask if you're available for a checkup this week. Your sister too, if she's available. I know Sans would be happy to see her. Do you remember the old manor?"

Jerry's face twisted into a scowl. "Now wait just a minute, Doc-"

Chara smiled as she sighed. "Yes, oh it was gorgeous! With the pines around the yard."

"Hey, what am I, chop-"

"I purchased it a few days ago. A little office in town, too. You can come to either, just call my secretary and let her know where you'll be."

"Slow down pal-"

"What if Frisk and I came for dinner? Say, tomorrow?"

Papyrus smiled. "Absolutely. Sans would be -"

"That's perfect!" Jerry said, stepping between the pair. "So, you'll be free tonight? Muffet's got an open table for the two of us." He reached out to touch her hand. She quickly occupied it behind her back fiddling with a line of ribbon that had inexplicably become uncomfortable.

She almost screamed when Papyrus touched his shoulder. Jerry drew back quickly and moved away from the doctor, rubbing his sweaty hand against the spot. "I've been meaning to ask, Mr. Ruens, when was your last medical exam?" Something had changed in his demeanor. Papyrus had a warm, welcoming smile across his gaunt face and his black-red eyes glinted in the sunlight. "I'd be happy to see the most important man in town at my office. Why don't we walk over?" A shiver ran down Chara's spine as he said  _most important man_ , almost like it was a vicious slur rather than a compliment. He faced Chara once more and gave a deep bow. Red covered her cheeks as the memory of a young boy bowing and saying until we meet again, fair princess filled her mind. She curtsied, spreading her skirt as best as she could and stifling a giggle. As the two set off down the trail, Jerry walking a considerable length ahead of Papyrus, Chara turned back to the schoolroom and set about organizing it once more. She found it harder to focus this time, with Papyrus's smile drifting in and out of her thoughts.

~.~

He heard the rumors the next day. People talked about it in his waiting room, asked him about it in examination, stopped him in the street to ask if he knew the vilest man in town had left. They said, "Jerry moved, found a different town to disgust."

"Good riddance!" The townsfolk cried. "Maybe his stench will wear away soon."

Papyrus listened to each person, engaged in their questions if he could, but he had more important things to do. The local grocer lacked the exact ingredients he wanted, but he could make do. A box of spaghetti, fresh tomatoes and carrots, some onion, garlic and other spices, and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Sans had promised to make the bread, but Papyrus knew his brother. He bought the bread anyway.

As he walked home, the people of Noueville called out "Good afternoon, Dr. Snowdin!" "How do you do, Dr. Snowdin?" "A fine day to you, Dr. Snowdin." The name was still strange to him, but he adapted quickly to hearing  _ Snowdin _ over  _ Gaster _ . The fact that Chara had not corrected him the day before surprised him. Was ten years long enough to forget that name? He shrugged, adjusting his grip on the bags. If it distanced him from the animal that was Dr. W. D. Gaster, then it was worth it.

Gaster Manor, or Snowdin Manor now, was the last house on Under Trail before the woods swallowed it up. The roof over the west wing needed repairing, and the windows desperately needed replacing. But it seemed that Sans had been hard at work. The drab and dusty curtains had been replaced with bright blue ones and the outside had a fresh white coat of paint. Bushes that had once been overgrown now sat in nicely trimmed rows, some being cut into various monstrosities.

The front room also had undergone a transformation. Not one Papyrus approved of at all. What was once a human body laid mangled on the floor, deep rich red staining the carpet around it. The walls bore blood splatter in wicked glee. He could almost hear the laughter of his brother and the screams of the victim. A faint smell of rubbish lingered in the air.

"SANS."

Papyrus cringed at his own yelling.  **_ Yelling is distasteful, Papyrus. Do keep that in mind _ ** **_._** Even dead, the good doctor had the nerve to chatter in his ear.

Sans popped into the room, his skull shaking, and a wide grin plastered to his mandible. "OH MY GOSH, PAPYRUS! I WASN'T EXPECTING YOU HOME SO SOON! ARE THEY HERE?! ARETHEYHEREARETHEYHEREARETHEYARETHEY!?" His body rattled with every excited tremor.

Papyrus felt his magic falter and groaned. "If they were, they'd be screaming at the sight of you, brother. Do fix that." He walked past his now still brother, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He retrieved a pot and filled it with water. It was set and boiling when Sans crept into the kitchen. Papyrus inspected the skin that had grown over his baby brother and found it satisfactory. Sans's disguise matched Papyrus in tone, light skin and white hair with the strange eyes, though the littler brother had a more boyish charm to his chubbier cheeks and wider eyes. He stood almost as tall as Papyrus, with a broader chest and thicker arms. He appeared more a common worker where the elder brother took pride in his more dignified form. Still, he had been wearing his soul out all day. Chara and Frisk would be coming soon, he could not risk his magic failing with them in the house. His soul collected the magic and allowed Papyrus's bones to feel the cool air of the manor. Sans shivered and switched back, leaving two skeletons in the kitchen.

Sans eyed the doorway where the entry laid. "I CLEANED UP, BRO. NO ONE WOULD KNOW ANYTHING HAPPENED."

"How did he escape in the first place?"

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT."

"It never is." Papyrus meant that. He put his hand on his brother's shoulder and looked into his sockets. The warm orange glow of his own encouraged Sans to ignite his brilliant blue glow. "Don't worry, I'll figure out a better way to secure your friends." Turning from his brother, Papyrus poured the pasta into the pot. "The house looks good, bro. Nicely done."

Sans laughed and clapped his hands. "BUT OF COURSE, THE MAGNIFICENT SANS IS ONLY THE FINEST DECORATOR IN THE WHOLE WORLD! MWEHEHE!"

"Go set the table. They'll be here soon."

_ And when you get here, my lovely Chara, you'll have a dinner you'll never forget. _


	2. Domestics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a little surprised that people have already read and enjoyed this. Normally it takes weeks for anything I write to get noticed. Maybe I'll post on AO3 more often!  
> Anyway, thank you all for the kudos and the comments and for just reading this. It really made my day!

Frisk hated doctors. The profession, not the people. Dr. Alphys Guardsmen was a good woman,  always coming to check on her while Chara worked in the school and bringing her food,  but her status as a doctor made her the last person Frisk wanted to see on any given day.  She hated the way they talked, especially to her. 

“W-w-well, Ms. Dreemur, I th-th-think we’ve made progress in your treat-t-tment.” The notes of surprise in her tone were not lost on the young lady. She folded her hands against her nightgown and nodded as the good doctor kept rambling. Dr. Guardsmen scratched something into her notes. Notes. Another thing Frisk hated about doctors. “We m-m-may even be able to p-p-partially restore you vision,” Dr. Guardsmen said. There was a sweet sound to her voice, like she was smiling as she said it.

Frisk pinched the bridge of her nose right by her eyes. The warped, scarred flesh  felt like leather under her touch. Chara told her it did not look bad.  _ Like a spiderweb, actually. Lacey and strange, but  _ _ beautiful _ _. _ She wished she could see it for herself. Would she find it beautiful? What about her eyes? Were they foggy and pale, or blackened and scarred as well? No one ever mentioned her eyes. 

Her hand rested in her lap again. “I’m glad, Doctor,” she said, her voice soft. Her lips spread into a smile. “When do you think we can start?” Hope swelled in her chest, a geyser ready to burst and drip off her eyelashes.

Tapping, the pen against the journal probably. “The n-n-next month or so, I’d say.” For a moment, she did not sound like a doctor. No formal tone, just a kind voice. A good woman. “Oh, before I-I-I forget!” There was a clatter, and heavy footsteps rushed downward. More clattering from below. Frisk giggled as she heard the steps rush back up. A rich savory smell filled the room, tomatoes and garlic. “U-Undyne made you s-s-some spaghetti for lunch. She said y-y-you’d better eat it all.” Table legs scrapped across the  floor, and the sound of a porcelain plate being placed made her stomach grumble. 

Dr. Guardsmen  placed her hand on Frisk’s. The feeling of rough  plates jarred her,  but she dared not pull away.  She tried that before. The doctor guided her hand to the fork and plodded away. The food had a slight charred taste,  but it did not bother Frisk. Chara’s cooking did not fare much better. She listened as the medical bag was refilled and clicked shut. “Make sure t-t-to get plenty of exercise, M-M-Ms. Dreemur.” Frisk nodded in response. 

The heavy  _ thump thump thump _ of feet going down the stairs and the front door swinging open and shut released a breath she did not realize she was saving. She finished the food and made her way down the stairs, one hand holding the empty plate and the other clutching the banister.  It had taken time, but Frisk had memorized the floor plan of the small town house.  She navigated past the few chairs and around the dining table to the counter. 

The door opened as she felt for the faucet. Her sister’s shoes clicked against the wood floor. “Sink’s to your left.” Chara’s voice held the lilt of a smirk, which Frisk copied.

“I’m aware.”

“You can use it, you know?”

“How? I’d never get it clean enough,” Their words were snarky, but their smiles and laughter that followed betrayed any bitterness. Frisk reached for the sink. Chara stole the plate and nudged her sister to the side. “ And now I’ll never learn.” She placed her hand against her head and sighed dramatically. 

Chara rolled her eyes. “How did your appointment go?” She knew how her sister would respond, grumbling and muttering about how she disliked the prodding and pushing.  Still she listened. She nodded and murmured agreements. “I had a rather interesting visitor.” She smiled softly as she remembered his snow white hair and entrancing eyes. “Do you remember the boys we use to play with?”

Frisk remembered the garden, running with her skirts gathered in her hands and laughing as a boy chased after her.  _ Frisky, I’m gonna catch you! _ “Yes,” she said in a whisper. It did not take a large leap of logic for the grand conclusion, “They’re back?”

Chara told her about Papyrus, about Jerry (for which Frisk snickered), and the invitation. “So dinner with the walking trash tonight?” Frisk mused, laughing at the discomforted air her sister radiated. The day passed away, and while  Chara was not looking forward to the evening, she sat ready at the door for their unwelcome visitor. An hour passed, then two. Then three. By the fourth hour, Chara elected to change out of her nice green dress and into a black nightgown. 

Frisk shuffled her way to her sister’s bedside and laid beside her. “Are you terribly heartbroken, sister?”  Chara wrapped her arms around her sister and nuzzled her short brown curls. They fell asleep curled around one another. Neither would hear about Jerry’s disappearance until the morning after.

~*~

Sans loved two things in this world. First and foremost, Frisk Dreemur. Ten years dragged on agonizingly slow, and every day he looked at her picture to remember his beautiful  _ beautiful beautiful  _ Frisk. The image had faded some, but that did not bother him. She was so close  _ so close so so so very close _ . He could not wait to run his phalanges through her hair. Her skin would be so soft, yielding as flesh is against bone and magic. 

His red room was the second. The dark crimson walls, the blood splattered floor, the many toys available. Father had provided him one, and he had been without one for so long. It was so unclean, unsavory, unright to kill in alleyways. So public, so easy. Red rooms made it much more fun. No nasty policemen to interrupt.  Papyrus promised him a room, and now he delivered. Oh what a good brother Papyrus was!

But he would leave his room alone tonight, its guest gagged and drugged with only the best his brother could provide. His guest would stay quiet while beloved Frisk sat downstairs. Passing by a mirror, he paused to look at the reflection. The pale skin and white hair seemed as natural as the bleached bones. His body shivered as he heard the front door open. The desire to teleport into the living room was a terrible temptation, one Papyrus warned of constantly. This did not mean he could not run.  He sprinted through Gaster Manor – Snowdin Manor, he had to remember his new name – and slid into the entry. Papyrus held a  green and yellow striped cloak, smiling down at a lady with red hair and a green dress. Beside her stood a young lady in blue, brown hair twisting in curls around her jaw and framing her face. 

His eyes widened when she raised her face to reveal brown eyes, the area around them covered in thin white burns.  Carefully he crept forward. “Miss Frisk?” He asked. The girl tilted her head  and smiled . “FRISK!” He pulled her tight to his chest, smiling wildly as he felt her soft flesh. “I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

She laughed, a sound like the angel’s singing. “I missed you too, Sansy!” He let her back onto her feet, grinning as she smirked up at him. She was so much smaller than him. How precious!

His magic seized and nearly fell when she lifted  her hands to his face and touched the facade. Her fingers felt like ice against the pretend flesh, but oh how it chilled him. She traced every part of his face, gentle as she passed over his eyes and up into his hair. The feeling of her nails stroking his head made his soul ache. “You haven’t changed much,” she said with her head tilted and her gaze level to his chest. 

“You’ve gotten so much prettier,” He cupped her face. “So much prettier. Oh you must tell me everything! Everything that’s passed these ten years!” She looped her arm  in his and let herself be led into the dining room, his excited words echoing through the halls. 

Papyrus rolled his eyes and offered his arm to Chara. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she answered as she took it.


	3. Dining with the Skelebros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to dine, and things go great until dessert.

The Snowdin Manor reminded Chara of her childhood home. While Papyrus’s home stood taller and older than the Dreemur Estate, it held the same regal air. The archways bore intricate carvings in its slopes, scrollwork almost identical to the same sloping patterns that decorated the halls she remembered. Each hallway that Papyrus lead her down was sparsely decorated. A statue here, an end table here, but hardly any paintings or plants.

There was one painting. Her eyes came close to falling out of her head when she saw it. Two young girls, leaning on one another in a field of buttercups. She felt the phantom of Frisk’s younger self squirming against her as the artist begged for patience. Her hair was brown then, like Frisk’s, long and curled. Her sister matched her for long brown hair, though it sat straighter. The smiles on their faces were the brightest they could give. Her cheeks had begun to strain. Some days, when she was forced to endure creatures like Jerry Ruens, she felt that pain again. They wore their favorite striped dresses, Chara in green and yellow, Frisk in blue and purple. She looked down at her evening dress and laughed. Her taste had not changed much.

Almost as if he had read her mind, Papyrus lead her over and let her see the full details of the painting. Every stroke seemed to breathe life into the paint. “Sans and I found it at auction a few years ago,” He said with a small, sad smile, “I knew it used to hang on your wall, so I bought it. It was...nice to see your face again.” He looked down at her. The smile grew brighter. “If I had known I’d see you again...” Something glinted in his eye. He let his words trail off and took Chara further down the halls.

The dining room had in abundance what the halls lacked. Pots and pots of green plants, some flowering and some not, lined the wall and gave the room a wild nature to it. Busts of various men and women (she saw each plaque inscribed with “Dr” at the front) sat in different corners of the room. The light wood table was small, with four chairs set. Plates already laid at each place, and Sans was pushing in Frisk. Papyrus pulled one of the chairs and gestured for Chara to sit down.

Chara smirked and quirked her eyebrow. “When did you become such a gentleman?” she said into the seat. Papyrus responded with a smile and crossed into a room hidden by saloon-style doors. She watched after him, her mind drifting away from the dining room. Back to the garden. The weight of a tome shared between two laps. Her finger underlining a sentence and him sniping.  _ You’re reading too slow! Honestly, Chara… _

The young voice was suddenly silent. An odd face appeared in her memory. Flat, almost smooth, with two black lines coming out of deeper black holes. A wicked smile painted across its face…

“Chara?”

Gone. She stared at her plate now filled with spaghetti. Papyrus was looking at her, his face serious and eyes unwavering. Sans shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth while Frisk weighed hers to perfection. “This looks amazing, Papyrus!” A smile fixed itself onto her face. Eating became a mechanical motion as she tried to ignore the warped voice laughing in the back of her mind. 

~*~

Something was wrong.

Papyrus watched Chara eat, but he could tell she was rattled. Her eyes darted about, her smile strained to stay, her body shivered suddenly and violently. Sans didn’t notice, he was too busy devoting his attention to Frisk.  _ She doesn’t taste the narcotic, does she? _ He had been careful. The rich tomato should cover the bitter medicinal taste. Maybe he hadn’t measured it right. Again he asked, “Chara, are you alright?”

She paused, spaghetti sliding off the fork and onto the edge of the plate. “Yeah, just…” Her brows pinched together, her lips pursed as she thought, “tired.” She smiled wider and chuckled. “It’s been a long day.”

He prompted her, and she shrugged before talking about bizzare questions from her students. Papyrus leaned on his hand and watched her eyes light up for the first time since sitting down. He could listen to her all day. Her voice reminded him of summertime, birds singing while the buttercups bloomed. Good days when he and Sans spent the whole afternoon at the Dreemur Estate. Dr. Gaster would tend to Toriel and Asgore while the children played in the garden. They became the last good days he would have for so long. 

He listened to her voice as the memories flooded his senses. Dr. Gaster forcing him into the carriage, the moon no higher than the ridge. Sans crying when they were told they would never see the Dreemurs again. The disgusting, smog-filled city that came with the morning. A grimy apartment that doubled as a medical examination room. The chemistry set that he would steal once a better one arrived. The first time Sans came home late, bones splattered in blood. The day Dr. Wingding Gaster didn’t come home. His face may have seemed serene, but his soul stirred with rage. The years of bitter cold, the blood and sweat he put into study just to be handed a piece of paper that got him nowhere. The only good thing that had happened to Papyrus since then was finding her. Seeing her again, touching her soft skin, smelling her flowery hair, knowing she had missed him. 

Chara’s speech began to slow. Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered against the table, splashing a small amount of sauce on her dress. “Pap, wha…” She pushed herself to her feet only to fall to her knees. She would have struck her head if Papyrus had not launched from his seat to catch her. Across the table, Sans was doing the same to keep his Frisky from painting her face tomato red. Her body radiated warmth like a little space heater, filling Papyrus’s soul with comfort.

He dropped his disguise. Bleach white bones cradled the red haired human close to his chest. A quick bit of magic, and she laid on a large feather mattress with an auburn halo of hair around her face. Papyrus pushed a stray strand from her cheek and let the smile on his mandible grow. She never could stop being beautiful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't understand how much I love you! Every comment and kudo makes me feel like I'm doing good!  
> Also, just a random thought, but I might share a few ideas I have for my own UT AU. If you guys would like to hear that, let me know down below. Thanks, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!


	4. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara wakes up to questions and memories unwanted. Papyrus takes care of business.

Chara’s body ached like she slept on rocks. No sunlight streamed through her window, and peering out she could see it was still night.  _ Wait, early morning, _ she thought as the clouds held a faint and dark pink hue to their puffy sides. The pane of glass that kept the cold night air from reaching her stood wide open. Odd, she always made sure to keep it closed. Tulle scratched her skin as she sat up, making her aware of another problem. She was in her evening dress. Looking over at Frisk’s bed, she could see the blue capped shoulders of hers as well. Very odd. She closed the window softly and changed from the gown. Saturday meant no school, so she wore a simple white dress with a grey apron over it. She stepped downstairs into the parlor and tried hard not to think about the cracked, peeling paint in the corners or the subtle smell of dust in the carpet. 

The townhouse she and Frisk stayed in was nothing compared to their childhood home. Here, the red paint facade was faded from time in the sun, the windows thin and brittle and waiting for a single strong wind to shatter, the carpet worn to its foundation. Maman and Papa would never had allowed their home to reach such a state. The Dreemurr Estate was kept to museum quality. She liked following the gardeners and the painters around the house. Frisk had liked it too.

Chara’s heart grew heavy whenever she thought of back then. Nostalgia, yes, but guilt. Every smile Frisk gave her as a child, the winks, the blown kisses, became stained with a feeling of longing and regret after Frisk’s accident. If only she had been there that day, when Frisk was attacked…

That day burned itself into her memory just like it burned her baby sister’s eyes.

Back then, the townhouse looked like a fantasy. Cherry red and perfect white trim. The school building’s construction was set for completion a few days later, and Chara would be the first and only teacher hired for the town of Noueville. With life settling so smoothly, she wanted to show her family. She wanted Frisk to see what independence looked like. 

Slowly the carriage she had ordered plodded across the countryside, Mt. Ebbot looming in the distance. Every jolt of the wheels made her heart beat faster, whether from excitement or terror was debatable. With Kris off training and preparing for upcoming wars, it was Chara’s duty to set a good example and show the world the grace of the Dreemurrs. Thus she was happy no one was sitting with her in that small rickety carriage as she trembled.

Nothing on the outside of the manor gave a hint of trouble. Its pristine white stone walls stood as high as ever, the trees were flush with gentle white blossoms, and the fountain she had lovingly called “Waterfall” sprung forth in pure beauty. Her door was open before the coach was fully stopped. The driver, who introduced themself as River P. Erson, did not try to stop her as she jumped out and ran to the wide French doors. 

“Maman! Papa! I’m here!” She yelled. Her voice echoed off the empty foyer walls and down abandoned halls. The doors closing sounded like gunshots in the silence. She called out again, and again, and again. Her feet took her down the sparse hallways and up stairwells. On the third floor, she heard voices.

“...quite severe.”

“Can’t we do anything?”

“I’m afraid not, your majesty. This time...won’t save her.”

She crept closer, listening as a man with a warped voice spoke with two voices she knew intrinsically. Asgore had a habit of letting his voice travel, like he was used to speaking in front of large crowds. Toriel’s voice stayed soft and gentle, like the fur of a well loved dog. A motherly tone that fit her.

She found them at the end of the hall in a small room. Whoever they had speaking with had left, the servant’s corridor exposed behind a section of wall. That left four people in the room. Asgore, the giant of a man whose wide shoulders meant every door in the manor was extended. Toriel, the tall woman with snow white hair and crimson eyes. Chara, the far shorter permanently blushing young woman. Frisk, laying on her back with bandages wrapped around her eyes and a bottle of pain medication beside her. 

She could barely hear her adoptive parents over the heartbeat in her ears. She ducked under Asgore’s arms and clutched her sister’s hand. Toriel’s voice came in and out of focus, and Chara strained to hear her. “...accident in the kitchen....didn’t know...blind…”

Her hands slowly trailed from the hand to the face, fingers slipping under the bandages. Toriel yelled “Stop, my child!” while Chara unwrapped Frisk’s face. 

The burns.

They swelled up closer the the bridge of her nose, pus-filled blisters trying desperately to heal the heavily damaged skin. From there, the blisters and burns stretched across her lashless eyes and out towards her ears and forehead. Frisk squirmed, and her eyes opened just enough for Chara to see a cloudy film over the warm brown irises she’d loved. “An accident?” Chara repeated, tears building in the corners of her eyes. Deep inside her, a rage awoke that she could not stop fast enough. She snatched the medicine off the end table and threw it, the glass shattering against the wall and painting it in a sick green color. “THIS WAS NO ACCIDENT!” Her scream came not from her voice, but her heart, as it writhed in her chest. 

Of course, she had no proof. Perhaps it was the rage talking. But something, some pit buried in her stomach, knew that her sister’s burns were not a kitchen accident. 

They left that day, Chara wrapping Frisk in a blanket while bustling her onto Erson’s carriage. Toriel and Asgore stood on the porch, watching as Chara took Frisk.

Four years later, and Frisk’s recovery was better. Dr. Guardsmen spared nothing, as per Chara’s request. 

A knock at the door pulled her from her reverie. She looked around her to see she’d sat down in the lumpy arm chair that Undyne had gifted her. How she had missed the distinctly salty smell was beyond her. Another knock, and she found the determination to open it. 

Her shock must have been evident on her face, because Papyrus laughed. “Good morning,” He said with a smile. “I do apologize for the earliness, but I saw the light on.” He glanced behind her, and she moved to let the large man in. His head was only an inch away from the ceiling, so he took to slouching. Chara gestured to the fishy chair and grabbed the kettle out of the cupboard. Papyrus took the seat while water was set to boil. 

Chara took up a nearby chair that, while not padded like Undyne’s gift, certainly smelled better. “Would you be a gentleman and tell me how we ended up here?” She asked, quirking her eyebrow and studying the now blushing face beside her.

He fiddled with his collar, loosening the red silk tie he’d had so tight before. “It’s...well...kind of embarrassing.” He flashed her a little smile. Her nod meant he could continue. “Well, after dinner we all went to the parlor to talk, and Sans and I must have kept you up far too late because you both fell asleep,” he paused when the kettle whistled and Chara prepared two cups of tea, one he accepted graciously, “Sans kept insisting the guest rooms would be the perfect solution, but I didn’t want you to worry, or have your reputation…” He trailed off, but Chara knew what he meant. Single women staying the night with single men meant good fodder for the gossips. “We called on a coach who was familiar with your home, and here we are.” He sipped his tea while Chara stirred two sugar cubes absently around the cup.

It would make sense, she would almost believe it, if she remembered any of that. No parlor stood out in her memory. There was little talking between her and Papyrus, and Sans monopolized his conversation with Frisk. The echo of a grandfather clock in the dining room had told her she could only recall things before seven. Eating, a little talking, and then a powerful need for sleep. She eyed Papyrus, whose face was relaxed with lips curled up as he drank. Papyrus wouldn’t lie about last night, would he? 

She shook those thoughts out of her head. “Thank you.” She took pride in his blushing, which he did quite frequently around her. He stammered out a polite “you’re welcome” before flinching. 

He almost slammed the tea cup on the arm of the chair while he reached into a pocket sewn in his jacket. Two identical black boxes were fished out and presented to her. “As friends once lost and now reconciled, I present you and your sister with a gift.” His eyes glittered. Chara smirked and took the boxes from him. They were thin and wide, soft like velvet. She opened one and smiled. Inside sat a beautiful brooch, a green gem encased in gold. “Polished jade,” Papyrus said, “A gift I received from an explorer. I thought it would look perfect with your hair.” She smiled as his cold fingers brushed hers and picked up the brooch as delicately as one moves a butterfly. Black ribbon stretched out as her lifted it higher. He leaned forward, his face inches away from hers as he slipped the ribbon around her neck. The brooch pin grazed her skin. “Perfect.” His warm breath tickled her nose. “It looks better as a necklace.” He mused. She touched the cold gem that sat on her neck and smiled.

The other was a large blue bow studded at the center with a small purple stones. Amethysts, she guessed. Her friend’s smile told her she was right. “Sans picked it, said it would look magnificent in her hair.” It was set gently back in its box. Chara wrapped her arms around Papyrus who reciprocated immediately. The warm morning sun watched them through the window.

Papyrus was just a step off the porch when one of the women in the neighboring houses came barging past him. “It’s dreadful Ms. Dreemurr, simply dreadful!” Her wails came between heavy pants.

“What’s wrong?” Chara asked. She felt a little guilty for not knowing this woman’s name, but that and all other positive emotions drained out of her when the woman spoke again.

“They found Jerry.”

~*~

Papyrus thought his soul might burst out his body when the heavy set woman began telling his beloved about a corpse found in the woods. He seethed as her face grew paler and paler over that scum of a man.  _ I’ll need to remind Sansy to be more careful in disposing of friends _ , he thought. When prompted, he offered empty condolences. After spreading the news to Chara, the woman went further down the street and caught people on their porches. 

“How horrific,” Chara whispered. She clutched at her dress, pulling down her neckline a bit. The anger in his soul turned quickly to ecstasy at the more exposed body before him. He expected her eyes to still be wide, to look up at him with tears in the corner and a quivering lip like she used to when they were young. It was quite the opposite. He lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowed to slits, and a generally neutral face came over her. “I suppose we’ll all have to be a little more careful.” She looked to him, not seeking comfort but confirmation. His nod relaxed her lips into a smile again. “Thank you again for checking up on us,” She said, slipping back into the house. “Have a good day.”

“And you as well, Ms. Dreemurr.” 

The door clicked shut and Papyrus let out a heavy sigh. He walked a little ways down the road before slipping into an alleyway. Before a curious onlooker could have ahd the chance to see, the doctor disappeared in a brilliant orange light. 

That same light appeared near a house halfway across Noueville. He dusted off perceived dust as he inspected the oddd house before him. It had clearly been contracted, since none of the other houses in the neighborhood looked anything like a metallic fish head. He stepped over the incredibly short fence and knocked on the toothy door.

“C-C-Coming!” A shrill voice yelled. A few second later, the door slid down to reveal a woman whose skin held a yellowish tinge. Her wide eyes were magnified by thick glasses. Pale hair stuck out around her head liek the frill of a lizard. Which made since after all. 

Her eyes narrowed at the lanky man before her. “Can I help you?” She asked, large body half hid by the doorframe.

“Is that any way to talk to an old friend, Alphys?” Papyrus made his voice as smooth as he could, remembering to bow the way Gaster always had. That got the woman’s attention. She gestured inside, sealing the door imediately upon his entry. Within the confines of her home, Alphys let her disguise drop. Skin became scales, hair became horns, and a heavy tail grew out from under her skirt. Soon a bipedal dinosaur stood beside a skeleton. 

“Where’s D-D-Dr. Gaster?” She asked, eyes darting back and forth as though the hand-speaking man would appear suddenly.

“Dead.”

Her jaw dropped. Eyes wider than ever, she searched the smooth bones of his face for any sign of a joke. “God…” She whispered, sinking into the nearby sofa. “I’m so sorry, P-”

He raised a hand, cutting off her halfhearted apology. “He was a bastard, and we both know it. Save your pity, that’s not why I’m here.” He waited a moment, letting the dinosaur monster get anxious before saying in the deepest voice he had, “Stop visiting the Dreemurrs.”

Alphys made a hissing sound deep in her throat. Her eyes narrowed sharply as the pupils thinned. “ _ What? _ ” The stutter vanished as a battlefield threatened to form. 

“They are patients of the Gaster family,” Papyrus snarled, his eyes flashing orange and hand glowing, “and I will personally see to their well being.” 

Alphys paused, staring at the eldest Gaster son. She had known his father well, as every monster did. After all, it was Wingding Gaster who perfected the magic to disguise one’s true nature. And his teaching came with a price. For a magicless monster like Alphys, it was a favor. If the old man really is dead…

“Alright.” 

To his benefit, Papyrus kept his surprise inside. The room returned to its shades of blue and Alphys wrapped herself in borrowed magic once more. “I’ll need your notes on Frisk’s condition.” His own magic crept up, letting him fix his collar with fleshy fingers.

Alphys nodded. “I’ll b-b-bring them by your house Mon-n-nday,” she murmured.

Papyrus was halfway out of her house when he heard her say “Such a shame. I didn’t know Toriel had such a temper.”

He wheeled around, but the door was shut and, upon testing it, locked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy!  
> Glad to "see" you guys again! Thanks for reading through this insanity.  
> I know there are gonna be some questions, but I promise there's a method to the madness.  
> For those who want to see the inspiration for all this, go to Tumblr and find Semisolidmind. Their work is always my inspiration!  
> Again, thanks for reading and I'll see y'all next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It makes my day to know that people want to read the insanity that rattles around my head.  
> This whole work is inspired primarily by Semisolidmind, the brilliant artist that introduced me to Papara and Butchertale (their own AU). Send some love on over to their absolutely mad drawings. If you like stuff like what I'm writing, you'll love Asylumswap, Victorian Horrortale, and Classic Butchertale.  
> I can't promise regular updates, but I'll try to give you more!


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